


Sleeves? Sleeves.

by seizethosegays



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Sleeves!!!, he got sleeves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 07:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16739689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seizethosegays/pseuds/seizethosegays
Summary: Race is going to the park to meet Spot. Instead, he finds a small Brooklyn boy wearing long sleeves. Will he find Spot?





	Sleeves? Sleeves.

“Medda says that if you blow up the house she’s putting you up for adoption,” Smalls said, poking her head into Race’s room. Race gave Smalls a confused look. “Medda heard a loud noise, and no one else is upstairs except you.” Race rolled his eyes and grabbed his phone. 

“I ain't gonna blow anything up,” he poked her nose and gently pushed her out of his room, stepping out and closing the door behind them. The two of them headed towards the kitchen. They could hear Mush laughing at something Crutchie or Jack had said. 

“Medda, I’m going to the park to meet Spot,” Race looked down to make sure his shoes were tied and made sure his flannel was buttoned all the way (because Albert distracts him in the live version and Race never frickin buttons them). 

“Oh, you’re going to meet Spot?” Jack asked, tossing an orange at Race. “Be safe, you crazy kids.” Race rolled his eyes and threw the orange back at Jack.

“Hey, how was studying with Davey last night? What was it that you were studying again? Human anatomy?” Race asked with a smirk. Jack glared at Race.

“We were studying for the test in history tomorrow,” Jack crossed his arms to his chest and huffed. Race grinned and stepped out the front door.

“I’ll be back later, children, have fun,” Race closed the door behind him. 

He could hear Jack shout “we’re older than you are!!” but Race just smiled and headed to the park down the street. The air was chilly and leaves were turning colors and falling off the trees. It looked even better when he got to the park. 

Everything was beautiful. He looked around for Spot. He couldn’t find him. He could, however, see a boy leaning against the tree, wearing a black hoodie with Brooklyn written in faded grey letters. The boy was sleeping peacefully. Well, if it was a kid from Brooklyn, chances were that they knew who Spot was. 

Slowly, Race approached the sleeping boy and gently shook his shoulder. The boy sat up, a bit startled.

“Hey, sorry, did you see a boy go by? Short, ‘bout as tall as you, messy hair, never has sleeves, angry lookin?” Race asked, trying to describe Spot to this boy who looked half asleep. The boy smiled.

“Gee, I don't know. Hope you find this boy soon, he sounds awesome,” the boy grinned, putting his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.

“Yeah, he’s pretty cool,” Race nodded his head, “pretty cute, too. Don't tell him I said that.”

“Hey, I ain’t tellin,” the boy put his hands up in mock surrender. “Why ya like him so much, anyway?”

“Oh, man, don’t get me started,” Race sat down, leaning against the tree. “Okay, so, he’s short, but don’t underestimate him because he can and will bench press you. He never wears shirts with sleeves. Never. He probably cuts them off, but who cares because have you seen him? I would purposely cut the sleeves off his shirts. And he acts all tough and mean but he’s a total softy. He’s always ready to fight but he really just wants to curl up with a big soft blanket and watch a movie.”

“He seems kinda confusing,” the boy smiled, looking at Race. 

“He is, but he’s hot so it’s okay,” the taller boy laughed, looking back at the sidewalk. Spot was late and he wasn’t gonna let him live it down.

“You must really like him,” the shorter boy looked at the dying grass and played with his shoelaces. “You should tell him.”

“Since he moved here from Brooklyn,” Race nodded, “but I didn’t tell him. I can’t tell him, are you crazy? It’ll ruin everything!”

“Well, either way, he sounds cool,” the boy sighed.

“Yeah,” Race whispered, nodding his head. “He’s pretty cute.” The boy looked over at Race and grinned.

“Y’know, Racer, you’d think that wearing something with sleeves for once wouldn’t make your friend think you were just some random kid,” the boy took off his hoodie. He had on a sleeveless black shirt. “I think you’re pretty cute, too, Race.” Race looked shocked. His cheeks, neck, and the tips of his ears went bright red. 

Race tripped over his words for a moment before finally saying a coherent sentence, “it’s so weird seeing you with sleeves.” 

“Bad weird or good weird?” Spot asked, putting his hoodie back on because it was fucking cold and he didn’t wanna get frostbite. 

“It’s definitely something I could get used to,” Race murmured, fidgeting with the bottom button on his flannel. 

Spot laughed and asked, “wanna go play on the swings?” Race nodded. Spot stood up and offered Race a hand, which Race hesitantly accepted. The two of them ran off towards the swings, each trying to swing higher than the other.


End file.
